Elder Scrolls: Song of the Dragonborn
by swegm
Summary: My own retelling of the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Follows the same story arc, but sometimes with my own little twists!


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Elder Scrolls series (obviously), but if I did, there would definitely be a novel adaptation of Skyrim out by now!**

Niklaas Fire-Blood awoke to the sound of heavy hoof-beats and the clinking of armor. Feeling the weakness and disorientation that often accompanies one when rousing from slumber, he lifted his head up, and immediately regretted it; the bright rays of Tamriel's sun mercilessly invaded his vision, sending a sharp pain throughout his skull. Instinctively, he tried to shield his eyes from the light, only to realize that his hands were bound.

Where in Oblivion was he? Had he too much mead last night? No, couldn't be that. He wasn't suffering any of the after effects associated with heavy drinking. Was he moving? Resisting the throbbing in his head, he began to take in his surroundings.

He was seated in a horse-drawn carriage with three other men. It was making its way down one of Skyrim's many highways, though which one, he could not say. He saw no signs to help him determine the area he was currently in. Just snow, mountains and trees. That's all Skyrim was.

Upon further observation, he could see that there were several other carriages both behind and ahead of his. Walking single-file alongside them was a large group of armed men and women in light armor. Niklaas recognized them as soldiers of the Imperial Legion. But what did they want with him?

"Finally awake, eh?"

Niklaas' attention turned to the man sitting across from him, a fellow Nord with long, blond hair. He was clad in what appeared to be a town guard's chainmail armor, adorned with blue fabric. The man was with the Stormcloaks, rebels fighting to free Skyrim of Imperial influence. This didn't look good.

"What's going on?" Niklaas asked him.

"You mean you don't remember? Suppose I can't blame you. Most men would forget their own name if they'd taken a blow to the back of the head like you did."

Suddenly it all came rushing back to him. He'd been attempting to cross the border after some mercenary work in Hammerfell, when he happened upon a group of Stormcloaks who had been ambushed by the Imperials and were hopelessly outnumbered. Niklaas had hoped to avoid the confrontation altogether, but he was forced to draw his blade when one of the Imperials charged at him. One of the damn cowards must have clubbed him from behind.

"I'm Ralof, by the way," the Stormcloak continued. "I'd shake your hand but, well, you know." He gestured to the bindings around his wrists.

"Niklaas."

A look of remorse crossed Ralof's face. "I'm sorry you had to be dragged into this mess, Niklaas."

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" the man sitting next to Ralof cut in. Like everyone else in the carriage, he was also a Nord, but he was of a thinner build and dressed in plain clothing as opposed to armor. It was obvious he wasn't involved with the Stormcloaks either. "If it hadn't been for you," he continued, "I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," Ralof replied, his voice showing no pity for a man who makes his living by stealing from the hard-working people of Skyrim.

"Shut up back there!" the driver of the carriage shouted.

The thief snorted. "What's wrong with him, huh?", he asked, turning to the fourth prisoner in the carriage. He was a large, middle-aged man who had no doubt seen many battles, but he was dressed in fine black raiment and a cloak of bear fur. And unlike the rest of his captives, he had a cloth tied tightly over his mouth so he could not speak._ A noble perhaps?_, Niklaas wondered. Definitely someone important.

"Watch your tongue!" Ralof warned the horse thief. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim!" With that, Niklaas' suspicions were confirmed. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak became the most wanted man in Tamriel when he murdered High King Torygg and ignited the civil war. Rumors stated he killed Torygg through Shouting, an ancient and closely guarded Nordic power involving using one's voice. If true, that would explain why he was the only one in the group who had been gagged.

The thief turned again to Ulfric. "If they captured you," he said, now realizing the severity of the situation. "Oh Gods... Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going," Ralof said grimly, "but Sovngarde awaits…"

The thief began to panic. "No, this can't be happening! This can't be happening!"

"Quiet down!" Niklaas demanded. "It's going to be fine." Of course he knew that was anything but true.

Moments later, they observed a town coming into view in the distance. It was surrounded by large stone walls, with a tower jutting out from its center. Whatever was to become of them, they would find out there.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" Ralof asked.

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts… should be of home."

The thief paused a while, perhaps trying to envision himself back into the warmth and safety of his house. "Rorikstead," he said finally. "I'm from Rorikstead."

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good. Let's get this over with."

As the carriage rolled into the settlement, Niklaas observed an older man wearing a masterfully crafted, almost regal set of Imperial armor. He was seated upon a bay stallion, and was accompanied by several High Elves, all clad in black robes.

"Look at him," Ralof said angrily. "General Tullius, the military governor! And it looks like the Thalmor are with them. Damn elves! I'll bet they had something to do with this!"

Though the Empire may have driven the Nords to rebell, if anyone was responsible for this civil war, it was the Thalmor of the Aldmeri Dominion. It was they, after all, who banned the worship of the god Talos, a hero to Nords everywhere and an important part of Tamriel's history. Not that it had affected Niklaas much. He'd always made it just fine on his own, without the help of any unseen forces. Maybe there were divine beings keeping an eye on the world from some other realm, but if so, they didn't seem to have any interest in him. Why then, should he devote anything to them? Needless to say, he had no interest whatsoever in this civil war... Too bad it now had an interest in him.

"This is Helgen," Ralof said as the carriage continued to move through what was likely to be the last place they'd ever see. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilaf is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." He let out a grim chuckle. "Funny… When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

The arrival of the prisoners caught the attention of a little boy who had been playing on the porch in front of his house. He watched with wide-eyed interest as the carriages passed by. "Who are they, Daddy? What are they doing?"

"Go inside, son," the boy's father ordered gently.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house. Now."

"Yes, Papa…"

Finally, the carriages came to an abrupt halt, directly in front of the watchtower in the center of town. "Why are we stopping?" the thief asked nervously.

"Why do you think?" Ralof replied. "End of the line." He stepped down from the carriage. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

The soldiers led the four men toward the headsman's block, where a large group of Stormcloaks was already assembled and awaiting execution.

The horse thief started to panic again. "Wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face death with some courage, thief!" Ralof said impatiently.

"You've got to tell them!" he pleaded. "We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

The four were brought to the Imperial Captain for identification. She was a large Redguard woman in heavy armor. At her side was an Imperial soldier with a list containing the names of every Stormcloak captured during the ambush at the border. "Step toward the block when we call your names, one at a time!" the captain shouted.

Ralof let out a heavy sigh. "Empire loves their damned lists."

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

Ulfric stepped forward and was led to where the rest of his men stood in front of the headsman's block.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," Ralof said sadly.

"Ralof of Riverwood..."

"Nokir of Rorikstead."

"_No!_" the thief yelled. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Without a moment's notice, Nokir made a desperate attempt to escape, dashing down the street and toward the town gate.

"_Halt!_" the Imperial Captain demanded.

Nokir did not slow his pace. The exit was plainly in sight. Just a few more precious steps and he would be home free, and this horrible nightmare would be just that-a nightmare.

"No one escapes on my watch," the captain growled. "_Archers!_"

One of the Imperials pulled out a bow. With little effort, he nocked his arrow, drew it back and released, hitting Nokir in the base of the spine. The thief fell flat on his face, lifeless.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the captain threatened.

The Imperial with the list turned his attention to Niklaas. "You there, Nord. Who are you?"

"I dunno," Niklaus said with a shrug. "Who are you?"

The captain stepped forward and grabbed Niklaus by his hair, pulling his head down to the point that the two were face-to-face. She wasn't as tall as him, but she was almost as muscular, which was quite impressive as Niklaas was no small man by any means.

"Hadvar asked for your name," she said in a low, threatening tone of voice. "Now I'm telling you... Give me your damn name before I gut you." She placed her other hand on the hilt of her sword to show that she wasn't playing any games. But Niklaus merely smiled. "You know," he said, "if you were half the man you look like, I might actually be a little intimidated."

The captain let go of Niklaas' hair and placed her hand on her chin thoughtfully. Then she balled that hand into a fist and punched him in the gut with all the force she could muster, causing him to double over in pain. Even with armor on, that still hurt like a son-of-a-horker. "You still want to play it tough?" she asked him.

Niklaas would give that one to her. He didn't like the captain, but he now had a strange respect for her as a fighter. Of course, he could still give her the thrashing of a lifetime were it not for his damn hands being bound. "_Well?_" she demanded.

"Niklaas Fire-Blood."

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman," Hadvar told him. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list," she said indifferently. "He goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain." He turned again to Niklaas. "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland."

_Right, that makes it all better_, Niklaas thought to himself. As he slowly walked what would undoubtedly be his last steps toward the group of rebels awaiting their execution, he caught sight of Tullius and Ulfric standing face-to-face in front of the headsman's block.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," General Tullius said, disgust apparent in his tone. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use the power of the Voice to _murder_ his king and usurp his throne!"

Unable to speak up for himself through the cloth that covered his mouth, Ulfric expressed his own distaste for the general through an angry growl.

"You started this war and flung Skyrim into chaos," Tullius continued, his voice rising. "Now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

Suddenly and without warning, a long, loud, monstrous roar echoed throughout the mountains of Skyrim like thunder, throwing everyone in the settlement off guard, Imperial and Stormcloak alike. It was like nothing Niklaas had ever heard in his life, and he'd made a living killing his fair share of nasty beasts.

"What was that?" one of the soldiers asked, looking cautiously up to the sky.

"It's nothing," Tullius assured him. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" the Imperial Captain said with renewed vigor. She turned her attention to a priestess that had been summoned from Helgen's temple. "Give them their last rites."

The priestess held out her arms in prayer to the group of doomed soldiers. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you! Our beloved-"

"Oh, for the love of Talos, shut up!" one of the Stormcloaks interrupted. The brave young man stepped forward toward the headsman's block. "Let's get this over with!"

"As you wish," the priestess said, annoyed by the heathen's lack of respect.

He was escorted to the block, where the headsman, a menacing mountain of a man wearing a black cowl and wielding an equally ominous axe, stood waiting for him.

"Come on! I haven't got all morning!" the rebel shouted as the Imperials shoved him to his knees and slowly bent him over the headsman's block. The Stormcloak took one last look at his captors as the headsman began to heave the massive axe over his shoulder. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials," he said with conviction. "Can you say the same?"

With those last words uttered, the axe was brought down upon him at full force, effortlessly severing head from shoulders and bringing an end to his rebellion once and for all. The Imperial Captain placed her foot on his body and shoved it aside in preparation for the next victim.

"You Imperial bastards!" one of the Stormcloaks shouted. Several of the Imperial soldiers on the sidelines answered her with their own feelings on the matter.

"Justice!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

Ralof turned his gaze to the ground in respect for his fallen brother. "As fearless in death as he was in life," he said somberly.

The Imperial Captain pointed at Niklaas. "Next! The Nord with the mouth!"

No sooner than she said that, another loud, earth-shaking roar sounded throughout the valley-this time much closer than before.

"There it is again," the nervous soldier said, looking around and keeping his hand at his sword's hilt. "Did you hear that?"

"I said _next prisoner!_" the Captain shouted, ignoring his concerns.

Hadvar gently pushed Niklaas forward. "To the block, prisoner," he said. "Nice and easy."

_Well damn_, Niklaas thought. This really wasn't the way he planned on going out. Still, he couldn't let himself be shown up by the bravery of the young man before him, so he walked forward willingly, all traces of fear nonexistent in his demeanor. He stood in front of the headsman's block, got down on his knees, bent over and glared up at his executioner. Completely unfazed by his look of hatred, the headsman once again heaved the axe over his head, still coated in the fresh blood of its previous victim. In just a few short moments, it would all be over...

"_What in Oblivion is that?!_" someone in the crowd shouted.

"Sentries! What do you see?" the Captain demanded.

Out of the corner of his eye, Niklaas could see something large moving through the sky and behind the tower. A moment later, the beast showed itself as it hovered in the air on massive wings of black and then perched itself atop the tower, peering down at the stunned soldiers and townspeople.

"_Dragon!_"

Niklaas couldn't believe what he was seeing. A dragon? But they were mere myths; stories sung of by bards in taverns. This was impossible! And yet here it was, right in front of him. A living legend, covered in coal-black, bony armor, with jagged horns, claws and teeth! Rearing its head back, the beast let out another mighty roar, and the skies darkened as fire rained down upon Helgen, causing everyone to scatter.

The dragon looked down at Niklaas with glowing red eyes that pierced him down to his very soul. A feeling of dread overtook him and he found himself unable to move. For whatever reason, this creature had singled him out, and although it made no sound, he could almost feel the beast laughing at him.

_Dragonborn..._

Suddenly and graciously, Niklaas felt himself yanked to his feet and turned to see Ralof. "Come on!" he shouted. "The guards won't give us another chance! This way!"

His hands still bound, Niklaus followed Ralof through the chaos of falling rocks and panicking people and into a nearby tower, daring not to glance back over his shoulder as they ran. Once the two were inside with the other Stormcloaks, Ralof slammed the door behind them.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing?" Ralof asked. "Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric replied bluntly.

Suddenly they heard the dragon roar again, and the ground shook beneath their feet, causing plates to rattle upon the tables and shelves to fall from the walls.

"We need to move!_ Now!_" Ulfric shouted.

Niklaas looked back at the door. "Well, we can't go back that way. That would be... unwise."

"Up through the tower!" Ralof suggested.

The two ran up the spiraling stairway to the second floor, where some of Ralof's comrades were in the process of removing rocks and other fallen debris from the windows, trying desperately to find an exit. Niklaas and Ralof were just a few feet away when the wall in front of the men exploded, knocking them onto their backs. They watched in horror as the dragon poked its head in through the hole and let loose a breath of fire onto the second floor, killing the rebels before they had any time to recover. The beast then flew off and continued terrorizing the rest of the settlement.

They waited several moments before stepping back out into the open. As they looked out the gaping hole left behind by the dragon, they could see a building with a straw roof down below. A dangerous fall, certainly, but not deadly.

"See the inn on the other side?" Ralof asked. "Jump onto the roof and keep going! We'll follow when we can!"

Niklaas nodded. He took a deep breath, and, without looking down, he jumped. As he landed on the roof, the straw that it was comprised of wasn't enough to support his weight, and he fell through, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Dazed, he quickly struggled to his feet, thankful that he was still able to walk after that.

Walking through a busted wall in the side of the inn, he was shocked to see the entire town of Helgen engulfed in flames. It took only mere moments for the dragon to reduce the settlement to rubble, and it wasn't done yet. He could still hear the creature, its monstrous roars drowning out the horrified screams of the townspeople.

"Don't look up!" he heard a familiar voice shout. "Focus on me! You can do it!" It was Hadvar, guiding a young boy to safety behind a pile of rubble, where a group of soldiers and other townspeople were taking cover. "Atta boy!" he said encouragingly. "You're doing great!"

Once safe for the moment, he caught sight of Niklaas. "Still alive, prisoner?" he asked. "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!"

_Right_, Niklaas thought._ Stay close to the men that just tried to kill me not five minutes ago_.

Hadvar peeked out from behind the rubble to make sure the coast was clear before turning to one of his men. "Take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense!"

"And what am I doing?" Niklaas asked.

"You come with me."

The two made a mad dash through burning settlement, darting left and right and in between houses, hoping to avoid the dragon's detection. They eventually came to rest for a moment by a stone wall in order to catch their breath.

"Unbind me," Niklaas demanded. "I can help."

"I will. But not right now."

Niklaas narrowed his gaze on him. "Just what kind of fool do you take me for-"

"_Stay close to the wall!_" Hadvar shouted suddenly, shoving Niklaas up against the stone as the dragon landed on top of the wall and sprayed fire down upon the area in front of them, killing several soldiers before flying off again.

Quickly, Niklaas and Hadvar took a shortcut through a dilapidated and partially burning building. It became apparent that they were drawing closer to the general, as the military presence was much stronger in this part of the settlement. There were archers perched along all the walls, and mages stood in formation on the ground, firing Destruction spells up into the sky. As the two continued to move through the growing crowd of soldiers, Niklaas caught sight of the dragon swooping down and snatching archers from a wall before dropping them to their death at several hundred feet in the air.

"Quickly!" Hadvar said as their destination came into view. "We're almost to the Keep!"

"Not so fast!"

Hadvar drew his sword as Ralof stepped out in front of him with his axe at the ready. "Ralof, you damn traitor! Out of my way!" He glared at Niklaas as he walked over to Ralof's side. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We're escaping, Hadvar," Ralof said with a smile. "And you're not stopping us this time!"

Ralof opened the door to Helgen Keep. "I'll cut you loose inside, friend," he said, patting Niklaas on the back.

"Much obliged."

"Fine!" Hadvar shouted as they locked the door behind them. "_I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!_"


End file.
